Failing To See The Attraction
by omnomchocolate
Summary: Sherlock's profound realization leads him to make numerous attempts at seducing John. Awry dates, bad poetry, nudity, and Valentine's Day are all involved. Alternating perspectives between John and Sherlock. Johnlock. Oneshot. Cowritten with laufeysonchild. Not beta'd or brit-picked.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Sherlock.

* * *

**A/N: **This is another wonderful collaboration, co-written together with the brilliant writer laufeysonchild. We did this together on Omegle, thus the changing perspectives in this story. I wrote as Sherlock and laufeysonchild wrote as John. Italicized words are meant to be texts.

This came to be as a result of our combined desire to write something lighter and fluffy instead of all the angsty-stuff we've written. :) Enjoy and don't forget to leave a review!

-omnomchocolate

* * *

_I see you gravitate towards, is my mind just playing tricks? _

_You come up and ask a simple question and I hit you back with six..._

_And well it might just be a feeling, and I guess I'll never know _

_Tonight it hits the ceiling and I might just let it show... 'cause you're a very special kinda person _

_And you've got me with every single one of your moves _

_And it might just make this problem worsen _

_But I guess I've got something to prove, something to prove_

_ And I'm failing to see the attraction_

-"Failing To See The Attraction" by Skint & Demoralised

* * *

Failing To See The Attraction

_John, I have news that may please you. _-SH  
_What is it? _-JW  
_You will be happy to know that I am physically and emotionally attracted to you. I know you are as well. So I think it will be beneficial for the both of us to have sexual intercourse as soon as possible. _-SH  
_What?! Sherlock, you've made me choke on my tea! What the hell are you on about?! _-JW  
_I thought it would be better for the both of us to skip the tedious phase of courtship and get straight to it. You don't agree? _-SH  
_Sherlock...no. No. That is not something that you just blurt out and suggest! _-JW  
_You would rather I send you flowers and woo sweet words to you first? I don't understand the point. The final outcome will be sex anyway, will it not? _-SH  
_No one said it would be. _-JW  
_John, you are attracted to me, and I am attracted to you. Is that not what people do, when they are interested in each other? _-SH  
_Well, yes but...I have a girlfriend, Sherlock. _-JW  
_Your point being? _-SH  
_Figure it out. I'm going on a date. I'll be back tonight. _-JW

* * *

Sherlock looked at his phone, confused. Was this not what John wanted? They both enjoyed each other's company, and Sherlock knew that John was attracted to him. John's eyes dilated, his pulse increased dramatically, and his voice lowered whenever Sherlock was in John's presence. All were signs of love, and all were present each time without fail. So why had John refused Sherlock's offer? Unless he really wanted Sherlock to engage in the courtship ritual? That seemed like such a tedious thing to do when they were just going to end up having intercourse anyway. Sherlock rubbed his temples and let out a groan. The subject of love was such a difficult matter, and Sherlock needed more data before he would know how to proceed.

-JW-

John was completely dumbstruck. He sat in his office, trying to work out exactly what he'd seen. He looked over the texts again, still not quite understanding. No, no he understood it quite well. It was coming to terms with it that was the difficult part. Sherlock had said it was obvious John loved him. That didn't make sense. John wasn't gay! Sure, he felt very very different around Sherlock than he had anyone else in his life, but that didn't mean anything. Or, at least that's what John told himself. He shook his head and got up. He had to leave a bit early to make his date on time.

-SH-

Sherlock threw open the wooden doors, swerving past a line of confused individuals as well as a flustered host.

"Wait, sir-" the man stuttered as he tottered after Sherlock.

"I know where I'm going." Sherlock waved the man away, his eyes scanning every table as he searched for John. The man stepped in front of him, blocking Sherlock's view.

"Sir, please, you can't just-" Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh, his hands rubbing his temples, before giving the host a hard stare.

"Shut up, will you? I'm busy." He spotted John sitting at a table near the fountain. Sherlock smiled, and pushed the flustered host aside, striding confidently over to John's table. Sherlock slammed his hand onto the table, catching John's attention and stopping his speech mid-sentence.

"John!" Sherlock's eyes drilled into that of his thoroughly bewildered flatmate. "I don't understand John! We are both clearly attracted to each other. Refraining from this is absolutely idiotic, not to mention, detrimental. You find me attractive, and don't say that you're not, because when I do this-" Sherlock's leaned down, his lips stopping mere centimeters from John's. His fingers wrapped around John's right wrist.

"When I do this," Sherlock whispered, his voice low and his eyes never leaving John's. "Your eyes dilate and your pulse increases. You want me John, so what's holding you back?" Sherlock stood upright, whipping out a folder and tossed it in front of John, scattering papers all over the table. "I'm clean. In there," Sherlock pointed towards the papers. "is my blood work. Now, tell me why. Why won't you sleep with me John?"

-JW-

John's face turned bright red. He didn't know what to say. He rubbed his face and looked over at his date. "I am so, SO sorry. My flatmate is absolutely mental," he said, glaring at Sherlock as he spat the last two words.

"No, no," said the woman, "it's fine." John sighed, relieved.

"Thank you," he said.

"CLEARLY, as your, ahem, 'flatmate,' has pointed out, you've no interest in me. Have a nice life, Mr. Watson." She got up and stormed off. John stood up and hit Sherlock upside the head with the papers.

"Sodding blood work," he muttered as he walked off angrily.

-SH-

Sherlock blinked, his eyes watching John's receding figure as the papers scattered around him onto the floor. He was utterly baffled by John's reaction. Why was he mad? There was nothing to be angry about. Sherlock was clean and he was willing. They both felt the same attraction towards one another. So why? Sherlock shook out of his daze, pushing past some gaping waiters as he ran after John. "John!" he called. John walked out of the restaurant, Sherlock close behind. Sherlock's hand grasped around John's shoulder. "John!"

-JW-

"What, Sherlock? What do you want? You've ruined my date tonight, I hope your proud. Don't you dare say that you are. Just what, Sherlock?" John said. He was angry at Sherlock's blatant and forward behavior. It clouded his ability to think, and had begun to prove quite embarrassing. He tried desperately to put himself into Sherlock's mindset, to no avail. He just looked at Sherlock and tried his hardest not to club him then and there.

-SH-

"I..." Sherlock was struggling to find the correct words. His actions had clearly upset John. His friend could barely stand to look at him, his shoulders were taut, his hands were clenched into tight fists, and his feet were pointing away from Sherlock. His hand fell from John's shoulder, and Sherlock stared into John's furious eyes. Sherlock's forehead creased and he let out a small breath. "I'm sorry John. I've made you angry... I just thought..."

-JW-

John looked at Sherlock. He was so innocent, so naïve. He knew Sherlock hadn't meant any harm, he just didn't very well know what he was doing. John sighed, letting his anger subside. For some reason, he could never be angry at Sherlock for very long, though he couldn't figure out exactly why.

"Forget about it," he said quietly before turning on his heels and walking away. Damn Sherlock and his ridiculous adorable ways, he thought to himself.

* * *

Sherlock stood outside of the flat and stared up at the darkened window. Beyond that window, inside that room, was John, who was tucked away in his bed and had just fallen asleep after a long day at work. Sherlock's eyes flickered to the time. Nearly midnight. Sherlock let out a deep sigh. The things he did for John. If what John wanted was courtship, Sherlock would be willing to give that to him. Sherlock raised up his violin, his bow in hand, and began to play a romantic melody. He closed his eyes, immersed in the music, only hoping that John would hear the tune as it drifted up to his room.

-JW-

John woke to faint sound of a sweet melody. His first thought was that it was Sherlock practicing his violin in his room. He groaned and rolled over. "Sherlock!" he yelled. He waited a few minutes, but the tune didn't stop. He took a deep breath to calm himself before getting out of bed. He stomped down to Sherlock's room only to find that it was empty. Perplexed, he wandered the flat looking for his irksomely musical mate. He gave up when he couldn't find him and went back into his room. He sat on the edge of the bed, horrendously curious now at the beautiful melody. He got up and wandered some more before finding that the music was loudest near the window.

Sure enough, when he looked outside, there was Sherlock, standing, eyes closed, playing his violin. John opened the window. "Sherlock!" he called, careful not to yell too loud. "What are you doing? You're going to wake the whole bloody neighborhood! Get back up here!"

-SH-

Sherlock heard his name being called faintly in the background, drawing his mind out of the music and back into reality. He looked up to see John's head poking out of the window, a baffled expression on his face. Sherlock's lips parted in a small smile. His audience was here. Sherlock continued his melody, the velvet notes permeating the silence of the night air and dancing through the starry skies.

"John!" Sherlock called out. He had performed extensive research for this moment, having utilized the best possible resources available. "I want you to know that I'm sorry. I care about you, and you mean so much to me." Sherlock cleared his throat and took in a deep breath. "The best love is the kind that awakens the soul; that makes us reach for more, that plants the fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.* That's what I hope to give you forever, John." Sherlock paused, before continuing. "So if you don't want to have sexual intercourse with me right now, I understand!"

-JW-

John's face went completely red as he sunk into the flat, attempting to hide his face from the people that now looked out their windows to investigate. John was beginning to think what Sherlock said was sweet, up until he shouted the last sentence up at him. Most of the neighbors grumbled and called for the two to piss off, but there were a few shouts of "go Sherlock!" and "finally!" that came from indeterminable places. John was experiencing new forms of embarrassment. "Sher..." he began, feeling himself getting angry before stopping and calming himself. "Sherlock, just please, come inside." He was rubbing his eyes and hiding his face from the wolf-whistles coming from across the street.

-SH-

Sherlock watched as John slunk away from the window and disappeared into his room. He ignored the noises of the people around him, instead focusing on John's reaction. Did he do something wrong? Did John not want this? He heard John ask him to come inside, a slight pleading tone to his voice. Sherlock stopped his playing, his bow resting limply by his side. Sherlock walked into the house and up the stairs and into John's room. John's duvet was wrapped tightly around him and his face was buried into his pillow. His neck was a bright red color, and Sherlock could only assume that the rest of his face was the same hue as well. "Not good?" Sherlock asked. "It was the speech wasn't it? It has to be. I knew that horrid movie wasn't reliable!" he muttered beneath his breath.

-JW-

"Sherlock..." John began, his voice muffled by the pillow. He didn't know what to make of that little performance. John had begun to feel flushed in a way that didn't suggest embarrassment, up until the last sentence. "Sherlock, your playing was lovely and your speech..." he lifted his head from the pillow slightly to speak more clearly, "your speech was beautiful," he said quietly. "Was beautiful," he added, burying his face in the pillow once more, "was, up until you finished it." He didn't have to look up at Sherlock to know that he was likely pouting, or something to that effect.

-SH-

Sherlock crouched down beside John's bed, so that his eyes were level with John's head. Sherlock cradled his bow and violin in his hands and gave John a curious glance. "Why are you buried into your pillow like that John?" He asked, tilting his head to the side so that he could make contact with John's right eye, seeing as that was the only part of his face that was revealed. John closed his right eye and buried his face completely. He muttered words, made unintelligible by the pillow. "John?" Sherlock asked again. This time, there was no reply. Sherlock leaned closer, so that he was mere centimeters away from John's head, and blew a puff of air into John's ear. "John? Can you hear me? Why aren't you looking at me?"

-JW-

"Sherlock?" John said to the detective, who raised his eyebrow in response. "Go to bed," John said. He'd had enough for one night. He would now have to lie there, unable to sleep, trying to sort out what was going on in his head. He couldn't quite work it out. He felt so confused. On the one hand, the core of what Sherlock was doing was very sweet and romantic, and John very much liked it. On the other hand. though, Sherlock was being an insufferable twit and embarrassing him with every attempt at wooing him. He had to mention sex at every opportunity possible. John guessed that Sherlock's social ineptitude, though, was partly what made him so bloody cute.

* * *

Sherlock was draped over his couch, staring blankly at his phone. John was at work right now, and Sherlock had a prominent urge to go and see him. It had been a few days since his serenade, and Sherlock had noticed a complete change in John's behavior towards him. John was barely able to hold a conversation with Sherlock for more than five seconds without changing shades or stumbling on his words. Either way, the conclusion was always the same: John would make up some excuse to leave the room and Sherlock was always left hanging. Sherlock did not like that at all. The serenade was supposed to bring them closer together, not drive John away from him. Sherlock's phone vibrated and he looked at the screen. He smiled. His gift to John had arrived at the hospital, and hopefully John would like it.

-JW-

"John?" John heard one of his co-workers call from outside his office. "John, there's, uh...something's arrived for you..." John got up, a curious look painted across his face. He instantly regretted his decision to step out of his office as soon as he saw the crowd of people giggling and standing around a messenger with her arms full of red, cheesy, cliche, romance movie nightmare looking merchandise. She smiled as John walked up to her. "You John Watson?" she asked in an annoyingly cheery, sing-song voice. John nodded slowly. "Well, then, lucky sir, these are all for you!" She handed him copious amounts of bright red roses, boxes of chocolates, and a ridiculously sized teddy bear wearing a blue scarf holding a sign that read "Sherlock Hearts John." Not a heart symbol, but the actual word spelled out. Nothing had mentioned sex, though. Or, at least he thought so until he opened the card in the flowers. "I apologize for my forward sexual advances, but I felt it necessary to be curt and honest. Love, Sherlock," he had written in it. Well, it was a step in the right direction. People pointed and giggled, and John just shook his head. This time, though, he couldn't help but to smile a little.

-SH-

Sherlock lit the last candle on the table before throwing the match into a bowl of cold water. The flat would have been in complete darkness had it not been for the flickering of a plethora of candles scattered in every corner of the room. The overwhelming smell of roses saturated the air. Sherlock's nose wrinkled at the smell and his mind could barely think under the weight of the smell, but he figured John would probably like it. Sherlock had cleared the table of his lab equipment, replacing it with aromatic candles and expensive china. Rose petals were scattered all over the floor of the flat. Everything was perfect. Now all he had to do was wait for John to come home.

-JW-

John trudged home with his arms full of the gifts he'd gotten that day. he could barely see over the tops of the flowers, so the walk home was far more treacherous than it ought to have been. Upon getting up the front steps, John realized he wouldn't be able to open the door. He tried to settle everything in one arm, but it was far too much. He didn't want to set it on the ground and risk dropping or ruining any of the things he'd received. So he just decided to kick the door and hope Sherlock would hear it.

-SH-

There was a loud knock against the door, alerting Sherlock to John's arrival. Sherlock wandered down the stairs, opening the front door. John stumbled in, his arms full of flowers, chocolates, and a rather enormous teddy bear. He looked humorously small in comparison to the size of his gifts. Nonetheless, John had gotten his gifts! Sherlock was delighted at this, and his eagerness to show John his next present multiplied tenfold, but his face did not show it. "John." Sherlock gave John a curt nod of acknowledgment and walked back up the stairs.

-JW-

John made to say something but sighed. He sort of hoped Sherlock would help him with all the ridiculous gifts he'd sent, but he just walked up the stairs and left John with his things. He carefully made his way up the stairs and went straight to his room, emptying his arms onto the bed and flopping down beside the pile of gaudy red. He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. Before long, he heard Sherlock walk over and stand in the doorway. "Yes, Sherlock, may I help you?" he asked, slightly impatient sounding.

-SH-

"What are you doing in here?" Sherlock asked as he stood expectantly in the doorway. He was eager for John to see what he had done to the living room and the kitchen, but instead John was sprawled over his bed and holed up in his room. "Are you not coming out?" Sherlock grumbled, his lips in a tight line. He went over to John's bed and stared expectantly at John, whose eyes were closed and whose breathing pattern was slightly elevated. Sherlock couldn't tell whether John was angry, excited, or tired.

-JW-

Sherlock seemed to want John out of his room, but John just wanted to lie down for a bit. "Sherlock, I've just had to carry your ridiculous...mess of gifts all the way home..." he said. Sherlock just remained where he was. John looked up to see Sherlock leaning over him, staring down expectantly. He sighed and stood up.

"Fine. Fine. I'll go out. Though I'm not sure why." He was about to walk out of his bedroom when he turned around towards Sherlock, looking at the ground. "Thank you, for the gifts, by the way," he said softly.

-SH-

Sherlock cracked a small smile. He was pleased that John had found his gifts agreeable. "Of course, John." Sherlock put his hands on John's shoulders, hustling him out of the room and closing John's door behind him. He raised his eyebrows and shot John an anxious look, before he pointed towards the living room. "Go on."

-JW-

John walked into the living room to see what Sherlock had set up. He stopped dead in his tracks when he say what seemed like hundreds of candles and rose petals scattered about the place. He just stared, jaw hanging slack, not knowing what to say or do. "Wha..." he said, not able to finish either the sentence or the word. He exhaled softly and laughed to himself. "Sherlock, you're going to burn down the bloody flat!" he said, trying and failing not to laugh and smile.

-SH-

Sherlock stood next to John, his hands clasped behind his back. "Do you like it?" he asked, peering down to look at John's face. John had a huge grin spread across his face, and he was chuckling quietly. It appeared that John did like Sherlock's efforts. That was very good. Yes, very good. Sherlock couldn't help but smile as he turned back to look into the living room. All 154 candles were shining back brightly at him.

"Hmm..." Sherlock mumbled in agreement. "I suppose it is. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't be pleased if I burnt her flat down." Sherlock stepped into the room, the pungent smell of roses making him cringe inside. Sherlock very much hated the smell of roses, especially after having been surrounded by the scent for hours on end, but he steeled himself. If John liked it, Sherlock could endure the contemptible smell for as long as was necessary.

-JW-

John rubbed his temples and shook his head. This was absolutely ridiculous, but somehow, at the same time, ridiculously adorable. Sherlock had really put effort into this. "Sherlock?" he began, "while I much appreciate the gesture, really, it's sweet, do you think maybe you should have gone for unscented candles?" The dense floral aroma fogged up John's mind. "This scent's...uh...it's very strong..." he said gently. He didn't know if Sherlock had intended it to be that way, or if he liked it, so he tried to tell him in a way that wouldn't hurt.

-SH-

Inside his mind, Sherlock let out an enormous breath of relief. He turned his head towards John, his eyebrow raised, and gave him an appalled look. "John, I absolutely detest this smell." Sherlock could barely breathe under the heavy scent. He looked at the rose petals scattered all over the floor and he very nearly knocked over a candle just so that he could get rid of the smell. Instead, Sherlock locked gazes with John, and both began chuckling uncontrollably.

-JW-

"Right, then." John said, still smiling widely and giggling slightly. He walked over and began picking up petals and blowing out candles. "Perhaps maybe we should clean this place up and open a window? This smell is making me want to shoot myself." he said. "Or, more rather, shoot you for putting it here," he added teasingly.

-SH-

Sherlock smiled as he began to help John blow out the candles and pick up the rose petals. They worked meticulously in silence. Eventually, both he and John ended up on the same side of the room with only a few candles remaining. Sherlock peeked over at John as he picked up a lonely red petal. John was beaming with happiness. He noticed Sherlock staring and gave Sherlock a soft smile, which stirred something in him. Sherlock slowly wandered over to John's side, and leaned forward, brushing his lips gently against John's cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day, John." Sherlock whispered, before he made his way out of the room and up to his room, leaving a stunned John behind in the living room.

-JW-

John stood in shock. In the flurry of events of the day, he had completely forgotten it was Valentine's Day. Everything suddenly made sense. He almost wished he'd gotten something in return for Sherlock, but it was too late. "Oh, well," he shrugged to himself. He threw away the last of the rose petals he had in his hand. Before going up to his room, he looked over the now darkened room at all the candles and smiled. It was incredibly sweet of Sherlock to attempt something like this for him, even if it did fail completely.

* * *

Sherlock was draped over the couch, his back facing the ceiling, and his head facing towards John, who was in the kitchen making some tea. Sherlock knew that John enjoyed writing poetry for his dates (which Sherlock found to be absolutely hilarious), but he noticed that John had never received any of his own. With that thought in mind, Sherlock had hacked into John's blog last night and left him some love poetry of Sherlock's very own creation. John was getting smarter with his passwords, but they were still easy to crack and it took Sherlock two tries and one minute and 13 seconds to get into his blog. It was an improvement from last time (a mere forty-seven seconds), so Sherlock had to give him a commendation for effort. John had yet to touch his computer this morning, and thus had not yet seen his blog. Sherlock watched John like a hawk as he waited impatiently for John to open up his laptop.

-JW-

John sat down in his chair with his tea and the day's newspaper. He began to read it, but noticed that Sherlock had been staring at him. "What?" he asked, flipping the newspaper down. Sherlock looked over at John's laptop and back up at him. John sighed. "I suppose you want me to write up the latest case, then? Alright. Fine." He got up and grabbed his laptop, sitting back down and pulling up his blog.

"That's odd..." he said, a puzzled look on his face. "I've got notifications for some strange comments...'Nice to see you two finally together' from Lestrade. 'You boys are so sweet' from Mrs. Hudson, 'It's about time' from your brother! What's all this?" He clicked the link to the blog where the comments were left, and immediately slapped a hand over his face. "Sherlock...you didn't..." he said. "People read this!"

-SH-

Sherlock flipped onto his back, his head leaning over the armrest and stared at John, who was upside down in his vision. The doctor's face was flushed red, a hand covered over his face. Sherlock rolled his eyes and stretched his arms and back languidly, before settling back into the couch. "Isn't that the point, John?" Sherlock asked, his gaze never leaving John's.

-JW-

John just shook his head. "Sherlock, I don't want everybody reading how 'Roses are red, violets are blue, sex would be great if it were with you', or how 'fantastic' you feel when 'my warm eyes wander over to yours, making...'" he stopped, reading the rest of the poem to himself. He'd expected the second to be just as ridiculous as the first, but it wasn't. While it was still wrought with innuendo, it was also incredibly sweet and surprisingly well written. "Sherlock, how did you come up with this?" he asked, still reading the poetry.

-SH-

Sherlock closed his eyes, his arm draped over his forehead. "I used my brain obviously." Sherlock muttered, waving his hand nonchalantly at John. "It isn't that hard, John." He opened his eyes and turned onto his side, his eyes soaking in John's slightly awed expression. Sherlock felt a warm feeling spread through his body, pleased at John's reaction. "I am glad you like it. You do like it, right?" he asked, his full attention on John.

-JW-

John just looked down at the screen, unsure of what to say. He wasn't sure if he had liked it or not. It was incredibly sweet, but it was still pretty forward and embarrassing. "It's...beautiful..." he said quietly. He still looked quite puzzled and lost for words. He reread it a couple of times. "Yeah..." he said slowly, "yeah, I do like it. Just please don't hack into my blog again, yeah?" Suddenly he got a call from work. "Shit!" he said, standing up and quickly remembering he had to go in to work. "I have to go. See you later!"

-SH-

Sherlock watched as John rushed out of the living room and padded down the stairs. He heard the door shut, the flat now quiet and empty, save for Sherlock. Sherlock stared at John's laptop for several moments, a smile forming on his lips, before he closed his eyes, his thoughts receding to his mind palace.

-JW-

John got to work and saw a few patients before encountering the inevitable teasing from his co-workers. One of the nurses winked at him, a few gave him a thumbs up and mouthed the words 'oh yeah' in approval. Another came up to him, shook his hand and said "congratulations!" It was extremely embarrassing, but he didn't once feel the need to correct them. He knew it would be a vain effort. No one would believe him, so he just think let them what they would. Until Lestrade texted him.

_Congrats, mate! Great about you and Sherlock, really. -_Lestrade

John sighed and he text him back.

_He and are are not a couple, Greg. -_JW  
_Whatever you say, John...-_Lestrade

John rolled his eyes at Lestrade's response.

* * *

"John!" Sherlock shouted, throwing John's door open and bursting loudly into his room. "We have an emergency!" he cried loudly. John groaned loudly, burrowing his head into his pillow and sinking into his duvet. Sherlock pulled John's duvet off and tossed it onto the ground, causing John to curl up at the loss of warmth.

"John!" Sherlock shouted again, more loudly this time. Sherlock stood impatiently in front of John's bed, his bare body dripping water all over John's floor.

-JW-

John rolled over onto his stomach and put his pillow over his head. "What the bloody hell do you want this time, Sherlock?" There was no response. John rolled over and sat up, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him. He put his head in his hands, blushing like crazy. Part of him wanted to steal another glance up at Sherlock, though he hadn't the faintest clue as to why. "Sherlock, what is such an emergency that you have to come into my room, completely naked and dripping wet?"

-SH-

"We ran out of towels." Sherlock grumbled, crossing his arms expectantly. He was faintly amused at the conflicting emotions playing out on John's face, and even more amused at how hard John was trying to keep his gaze from wandering away from Sherlock's face. He raised an eyebrow. "John?"

-JW-

John flopped backwards onto his bed. He could have just stayed in the bathroom, or gone to his own bloody room, but no. Not Sherlock. He had to come in here. Naked. Because that's apparently just what he does. John stared up at the ceiling, trying hard not to sit up and look at Sherlock. "What, Sherlock?" he responded. "What? What do you want?"

-SH-

"We're out of towels." Sherlock said again, slightly irritated at having to repeat himself. He made no attempt to move, his feet still plastered to the floor. There was a slowly growing puddle of water at his feet. Sherlock shivered slightly and sniffled. He glanced around John's room before resting his eyes on John, who was lying on his bed and staring pointedly at the ceiling. He was looking at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, which Sherlock didn't quite understand.

-JW-

John finally sat up and looked back at Sherlock, extremely careful to lock eyes and keep his gaze there. "You could have gone to your room and put some clothes on, perhaps? Or checked the bathroom for towels before getting in the shower?" John sighed. He noticed Sherlock was shivering and his muscles tensed a bit, his stance contracting. He wasn't exactly warm standing there, and the fact that the heating wasn't on didn't help. "Christ, Sherlock, you're freezing," John said. He got up and wrapped his duvet around Sherlock to warm him up.

-SH-

"But there weren't any towels, John." Sherlock said simply, wrapping the duvet tighter around him. The duvet smelt like John, and Sherlock cracked a small smile as he wandered over to John's bed and sat down. "I burnt them all in my last experiment." he shrugged as he slowly began to warm up. His hair was still soaked however, and Sherlock blinked as water made its way down his forehead and into his eyes. His hand slipped out of an opening in the duvet and he wiped the water away, only to have it replaced by more water. Sherlock sneezed, before looking up at John and shaking his head in a scolding manner. "John, if I get sick, it's going to be your fault. It's your job to replace the towels."

-JW-

John sighed. "Sherlock, if you burn the towels it's your responsibility to replace them." He looked at Sherlock. He was shivering and still freezing. "What did you do, bathe in ice?" he asked teasingly. He pulled a t-shirt out from one of his drawers and used it to dry off Sherlock's hair. When it was sufficiently dry, he sat on the bed behind Sherlock and wrapped his arms around him, attempting to warm him up more, wrapping the duvet tighter around him. "You really ought to put some clothes on, you know."

-SH-

"No, I think I like it like this." Sherlock muttered, closing his eyes as he basked in the feelings that having John's arms wrapped around him gave. Sherlock sat comfortably in John's warm grasp, neither uttering a word. When Sherlock was sufficiently warm enough, almost to the point where it would become uncomfortable, he shrugged off the duvet, turned around and leaned forward, kissing John right on the lips. He sat back, his lips quirking upwards with amusement.

"Besides," Sherlock shrugged, standing up bare and in full view of a very flustered John. "You quite like me like this, don't you?"

-JW-

John just sat there, slack-jawed and completely lost for words. He didn't know what to say. His mind was drawing up blank, yet at the same time so many thoughts raced through it. He had liked Sherlock like that, he finally admit to himself. He had very much liked Sherlock like that. He still couldn't find the words to say it, though. He felt horribly confused. Questioning his sexuality was not something had ever thought he would do, but apparently being alone in a room with a very naked Sherlock Holmes had the ability to make him.

"I'm not gay," he said quietly, less for Sherlock and more for himself.

-SH-

Sherlock's smirk all but fell at John's quiet denial. He let out a scoff. "John, I am a consulting detective, the only one in the world. I've interrogated plenty of liars and caught about every sort of criminal you can imagine. You think I can't tell a simple lie when I hear one?" Sherlock leaned down and picked up the duvet he had dropped to the ground earlier.

"I just don't understand, why you won't accept it..." he muttered angrily, wrapping the duvet around himself once again. He gazed into John's eyes, serious and his voice quiet. "If... If you really don't feel the same way I do, just tell me to stop. And I promise you I will stop. I won't ever bother you about this again, and we can return back to the way we were." Maybe Sherlock had been looking at this wrong the entire time... He hated being unsure, especially after this long. If John really didn't like him, and told him, he would stop. Sherlock would stop sending John cheesy texts, stop hacking his blog and putting poetry on it, along with everything else. The only thing Sherlock could not stop, however, was his feelings, and those... those were easily pushed aside.

-JW-

John was hit with a realization of something he'd denied himself for far too long. Seeing Sherlock so obviously hurt like that just brought it out of him. "No," he said softly, looking down at his hands. "Sherlock, I'm sorry." His words were barely audible. "This just isn't something I'm used to. All my life I'd thought I couldn't possibly be interested in men, but then I met you, and...everything changed. I was so confused. So...in denial. And, then you started all of this, and everything started to make sense, and, to be quite honest," he looked up at Sherlock, "I really don't want you to stop."

-SH-

Sherlock let John's words soak into his mind for a few moments, before Sherlock broke out into a wide smile. He ran over to John and hugged the doctor tightly. "I've been waiting to hear that for a very long time now, John." Sherlock's heart took flight and his mind was focused on John and John only. John didn't want him to stop! He didn't want Sherlock to stop! Sherlock was absolutely ecstatic. John hugged him back, and the two were locked in a tight embrace for several minutes.

What happened now? Sherlock wondered. He leaned back from John, his lips pulled into a firm line and a grave look in his eyes. His forehead creased as he asked John the question that had been on his mind in utter seriousness. "Does that mean we will have sexual intercourse now?"

-JW-

John just laughed and shook his head. Of course he'd ask about sex again. John looked up at Sherlock who had been dead serious. He couldn't help but laugh again. "You're cute," he said, leaning up and kissing Sherlock's nose.

FIN

* * *

**Note**: (*= Quote from "The Notebook")


End file.
